


Equal Footing

by kkulddeok



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur is so soft for merlin hes like an overripe banana, Bathing/Washing, M/M, Watch them slowly fall more in love with each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29158053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkulddeok/pseuds/kkulddeok
Summary: The king of Camelot is righteous and fair, never biased or favouring, always the hand of justice. He has upheld Camelot's laws since his crowning as a prince, and continues to do so as a king. He is strong as steel, and no one comes close to see his humanity.But there is an exception to everything the king is, and that is Merlin.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 208





	Equal Footing

"So?" Arthur prompts, back to merlin as he strips off his tunic. Merlin catches it neatly in its trajectory to his face.

"Great feast, nice music," Merlin deflects cheerfully as he collects the breeches and belt Arthur had dumped on the floor. Arthur levels a flat gaze at him from behind the steam rising from his tub.

"Quit being thick, Merlin. Idiocism doesnt become of you," he reprimands lazily. Merlin's jaw tightens and he sets down the garments to throw some more logs into the fire. It crackles merrily.

"Cenred was touching the boy, what else should I have done?" Merlin spits bitterly, tightening his grip on the poker. It glows white hot in the flame. Merlin's eyes burn as he watches it. Water swishes softly, splattering dimly on the floor.

Arthur rests his head on his arms, lounging at the edge of the tub. "You did well," he says simply. Merlin watches him; there is no humour in Arthur's eyes. "Come," Arthur instructs. Merlin pries his white-knuckled fingers off the poker and sets it down as quietly as he can. Arthur wets a cloth, beckons Merlin lower. Merlin obliges, slow and unsure.

The water stings on the cut Cenred's ring left on his cheek, but Arthur is impossibly gentle as he alternates between running warm water down the cut and dabbing at the dirt on Merlin's skin. "Best put some salve on that," Arthur says softly, and Merlin doesnt even know when his eyes had slid shut. When he opens them again slowly, he blinks languidly, and it still feels like he's moving too fast in this moment, liquid and sweet like molasses. 

They say no more after that, as Merlin dries Arthur off and dresses him in his comfortable sleeping breeches. Arthur's cat-like gaze follows him around the room as Merlin extinguishes each candle, and as the last one goes out, the last of the footfalls recede.

"Goodnight Merlin," Arthur murmurs, and his eyes slide shut. Merlin tugs the blanket higher, smoothing it down on Arthur's arms. It's a little cold these nights. Arthur gives no indication that he minds the touch.

"Goodnight Arthur," Merlin whispers close to Arthur's golden head, heart thudding near out of his skin even as he closes the heavy wooden door behind him.

Arthur is just beginning to stir awake when Merlin reenters the chambers. The sky has a dull greyness to it; it seems the pre-winter rains are about to fall upon Camelot. He had better dress the king warmly, less the fussy man pitch a fit after he catches a cold running around with too little layers on.

"G'morning sire," Merlin greets as he tugs the heavy red curtains open. Watery sunlight straggles in. It barely disturbs Arthur, who rubs his cheek snugly against the soft sheets. "Up with you, lazy king," Merlin teases, fingers wound tightly into the blankets as he gives a great tug. He has learnt early on that Arthur made full use of his knightly strength when he wanted to stay in bed, and Merlin must put in some elbow grease to tear the great lug out of his nest.

Arthur groans, rolls away and snatches his covers with him into the center of his awfully big bed. Undaunted, Merlin clambers onto the bed, giving short annoying tugs. "Come on, you have got actual duties you lazy man," Merlin grunts. He takes a deep breath, gives a great big yank. Arthur loses his grip on the sheet and Merlin exclaims in triumph. He scoots back with his prize, absolutely unprepared for the way Arthur snatches the blanket back in exasperation, because one second ago, he was looming over Arthur and bracing to pull the covers away. The next second, he's sprawled on Arthur's broad chest. 

Arthur is wide awake now. His eyes are crystal blue. Merlin swallows dryly. It's silent - not even the birds are chirping. They hold their breath as time holds still. Arthur's chest is warm beneath merlin's bare hands.

"Not that this isn't welcome, but I heard an annoying pest nattering on about my kingly duties for the day...?" Arthur murmurs, his strong hands lifting Merlin off his chest easily. Merlin scrambles back - he knows his ears must be blistering red now.

"Uh yeah! I- uh must have forgotten to- I think that- breakfast is cold I'll just-" Arthur watches as Merlin yanks the platter of bread, cold meats and cheeses up, disappearing from the chamber in a flash. Arthur smiles to himself.

Merlin seems to be back to be usual foolish self again after he reappears with the same platter of breakfast to a dressed Arthur. He trots beside Arthur and chatters Arthur's ear off as they walk through the castle to training grounds. Arthur spares a ear to listen to Merlin's gossip, another to focus on their surroundings. It pays to be a multitasker when-

Arthur's hand shoots out to tug Merlin behind him as a training knight's mace goes flying past, missing Merlin's gigantic ear by a hair. "Pay attention to your surroundings, Merlin," Arthur sighs. "It's a wonder you've survived this long with your clumsiness." Arthur ambles off, not wanting to draw even more attention to his strange infatuation by checking on the strangely quiet Merlin.

Within five steps, he fails of course, turning back to squint at his curiously silent servant. Merlin is hurrying off to the shade, and Arthur is inordinately pleased to find that Merlin's ears are a telling pink.

Arthur quite knows that Merlin doesnt spend his time off at the tavern. Gods know the fool has probably never even set foot in one.

For one, Merlin has abysmal alcohol tolerance. 

"Ah-fur," Merlin moans, tipsy off the ale the servants had been permitted to drink after the feast. Arthur startles, quickly laying his folded tunic over the arm of his chair. Alas, he still isn't quick enough in crossing the room to prevent Merlin from toppling over. 

"What on earth are you doing here, you lousy servant," Arthur frets, slipping an arm under Merlin's bony knees and hugging the ale-warm pliant body to his chest. He sets Merlin down in front of the tub and puts on his best Gaius-voice. "Merlin, could you magic me a warm bath my boy," Arthur rasps. Merlin's head lolls over and he briefly opens his eyes to little slits that glow golden as the tub fills perfectly to the hot temperature Arthur so enjoys.

"Gaius asked for the bath, not Arthur," he chides in his normal voice without heat, tugging the tunic off of Merlin's uncooperative limbs. "Water this hot would scald the poor old man." Merlin honestly giggles. Arthur shakes his head. 

"I know but," Merlin's voice hitches as he smiles a flirty thing, "Gaius doesnt ask for baths, only the pompous brat, so... I only know the temperature Arthur likes."

"And what do you like?" Arthur asks conversationally, as he finishes tugging off the last of Merlin's smallclothes, averting his gaze from Merlin's groin.

"I like... oh... don't tell him I said this but," Merlin bites his lower lip, and Arthur wants to suckle on the plush bud so much it has his cock stirring in interest. "I love him," Merlin hiccups, teary-eyed suddenly. Arthur draws a blank. His cock wilts. He has never had to comfort another person. Ever. 

"Oh hush you big baby, don't cry," he pats Merlin's hair gently. It's awkward, but his wet nurse used to pat him if he felt upset. Merlin continues to tear up as Arthur lowers him into the tub.

"It's just," Merlin's lips wobble, "he acts like a prat but he's nice to me!" Sounds familiar, but maybe Merlin could have developed some strange sort of affliction that caused him to fall for someone who reminded him of his antagonist master. That is just weird. "He's so pretty you know," merlin sighs. "So golden, so strong. I wish he knew I was strong too. I saved 'im so many times," Merlin mourns.

"You saved him?" Arthur asks, curious now. Strong must mean a knight. A golden-haired knight? There isn't one in Camelot. He rubs the soap on Merlin's neck, as gently as he can. Now Merlin's going to smell like him, a happy primal part of his brain crows. Arthur meanly shoves that thought out of the way, studiously keeping his mind on the image of a blonde knight.

"Ye-uh, he didnt even know he almost drowned because I put him to sleep 'til morning," Merlin sulks, lifting his arms petulantly when Arthur nudges the wash cloth at his underarm. "When i sent them off tha' path... so the serkets couldnt find them," Merlin voice dips, and Arthur leans in closer, hands still. "I still rememb'r what it feels like to be stung. It hurt so bad, Arthur, it hurts," Merlin's fingers are curled tightly into Arthur's tunic and Arthur draws the damp body closer, sighing silently. 

"Is he worth all of this?" Arthur finds himself murmuring into Merlin's wayward curls. Merlin snorts.

"Thought the same too y'know. Why did I stay on when he didn't treat me nice at firs'," Merlin sighs. "When he thinks 'm not looking, he slips me some food. He gives me his clothes that aren't spoiled yet! An' one time, he made fun of a lord so he couldnt touch me anymore." Arthur's ears are ringing. Surely not...

"He went to get the flower to save me," Merlin's voice is so tender, and Arthur feels his own answering tears prickle at his eyes. "He protects Ealdor even though it's not Camelot. Camelot..." Merlin trails off, eyes suddenly shining golden. Arthur stiffens, wary, but he forces himself to keep looking, memorise that liquid gold in his sorceror's eyes.

"Albion loves you, Arthur," Merlin suddenly locks gazes with him, astonishingly clear. "Remember to be a good, loving king."

"I promise," Arthur takes merlin's hand to his lips, presses them to Merlin's fingers, never once looking away. 

"The other side of the coin," Merlin smiles, half-lidded and snoozy again. The moment drifts away.

"Up with you now," Arthur lifts Merlin up by his arms. Merlin complies, and Arthur hurries to yank a towel off the shelf, wrapping Merlin tightly in it. Merlin sighs, leans against Arthur. Not that Arthur isn't enjoying it, but the lazy brat is making it harder to get him ready for bed. Arthur looks around, one arm wrapped around the dead weight that is his useless servant. There, Arthur snags one of his clean white shifts. He unravels Merlin from his towel bundle, and makes quick work of dressing merlin. 

Smallclothes are altogether too intimate to be lent, so Arthur hesitates for a moment, and topples Merlin onto the bed. His long, slender legs hang over the edge, much remniscent of a newborn foal. Arthur has kept his gaze away from Merlin's manhood for the whole night, and he resolves not to break that streak as he pulls his softest pants up Merlin's legs, and over his hips. "There you go," Arthur sighs, suddenly drained. Merlin concurs by snuffling quietly and burying his face in Arthur's pillow.

"Goodnight Merlin," Arthur mumbles, clambering in after rolling Merlin into the center. Merlin twitches a finger and the candles extinguish. They sleep. 

Merlin still hates hunts with all of his might, and Arthur has honestly lost most of his interest in killing the animals too. Morgana would say he is getting soft in his old age (of thirty! Arthur thinks indignantly) but Arthur has now found a companion to sit down and enjoy Camelot's beauty with over some honeyed ale and sweetmeats, so he couldn't be blamed for retiring mostly from pursuing game.

Now, when Arthur goes out alone, it's with a pack of a picnic blanket, breads, cheeses, crackers, fruits and honey. Merlin of course, carries the pack, cradled between his thighs atop the saddle of the gentle mare that Merlin is accustomed to riding. As always, he prattles on about mundane things like how he caught the cook and the laundress in the pantry canoodling, how he thought the princess Mithian who visited for a day was incredibly beautiful, much like Morgana. Arthur as always, spares an ear listening to their surroundings. 

Nothing eventful happens, and they rest in a lovely clearing. Merlin is so occupied with tossing his fruits to the little woodland creatures that are drawn by his strange woodland charms and the bird's nest atop his head that he forgets to actually eat his food. In fact, his pile is draining astonishingly fast into the bellies of the little pests acting cute to him that Arthur grudgingly sweeps some of his own into Merlin's plate, only to freeze when the bath comes to the forefronts of his mind. 'When he think 'm not looking, he slips me some food.' Goodness, he really is getting soft.

"Actually eat Merlin. They're conning you out of your lunch," Arthur drawls, juice exploding in his mouth as he sinks his teeth into an exceptionally sweet apple. He hums appreciatively. Beside him, Merlin snorts.

"You just have got an agenda against small animals." Nevertheless, his nimble fingers balance a bread, a fruit and a few nuts even as he swigs some honeyed ale (diluted by arthur) from his waterskin. "Look at them, they're-"

Arthur wants to scream "look out!", because he hears the whisper of a dagger cutting towards them, but he can't. Everything is silent and he is frozen. Merlin's eyes rage molten gold as he plucks the dagger halted in its trajectory to Arthur's chest. He steps to the side, and Arthur can't follow him out of eyesight.

Merlin sounds like a predator, stalking slow steps and quiet, unbriddled anger. He seems to have found his target as he stops for a good moment. "How has my king done you wrong?" He murmurs lowly.

"My father was executed by your filthy king!" A female voice spits. Arthur's heart freezes.

"You are Anne? Jane and Peter's daughter?" Merlin asks.

"Yes and I have come to avenge my father," she snarls. Arthur concentrates on wiggling his finger. It wiggles. He tries his jaw next, as Merlin speaks again.

"Arthur's hand was forced. I was the one who consoled him after the execution."

"And nobody could console us! We lost a father and a husband, we lost our family!" The girl screams.

"Had Arthur not executed your father, your entire family would have joined him in the pyre." Merlin's voice is hard, but unmistakeably soaked in grief. "Arthur fought hard to pardon your father, but Uther threatened the execution of your entire family had he not agreed."

Moving comes easier the more he is able to wiggle free of merlin's spell. Part by part, Arthur regains control and finally, he stands up. "Merlin," he interrupts. Merlin whirls around, eyes wide and palms facing Arthur. "Let me talk to her. It is my wrong to right." He placades, tugging Merlin gently behind him.

The girl is young, barely out of childhood. Her arm is frozen in its arc following the dagger, but her face is pure hatred. Arthur feels her terrible disgust digging into his heart as if Merlin had never stopped the dagger from finding its mark, and he feels his own pyre of sin and guilt roasting him constantly, ever since he carried out his first execution. No matter his action and the time that has elapsed, some grief just will never pass and some hurts will never heal.

And yet he kneels before her. "It was by my command that your father was executed," he admits, "and I have torn many more families and lives apart by my power, my ignorance and fear."

"I have been harmed by magic, and saved by magic. Merlin told me that magic is but a tool that can do wondrous or terrible things according to the hearts of the wielder," Arthur confides. Anne looks ashen, but tired, wary. "I see magic as the magic users do now, and I do not want my people to live persecuted and fearful anymore. The lift on the ban of magic came too late for everyone who suffered before it, but there is no better time to contain the damage than the present."

"I cannot make it up to the ones who I have hurt before, but I assure you that I will not let the ones who come after be hurt by the folly of generations before," Arthur implores. The girl's lip trembles and a lone tear streaks down her cheek.

"Merlin?" Arthur asks. Merlin's eyes flash golden. Sound explodes around them again and Arthur winces. The girl collapses on the ground and sobs. Merlin steps forward but she scrambles up, harshly swiping at her cheeks as she disappears in a rustle.

It's dreadfully between them for a beat before "did you know?"

Arthur meets Merlin's eyes, resolutely blue and no gold. "Yes." That is the truth. Arthur has known, even before the ban was repealed.

"Why did you not say anything?" Merlin's voice is soft, his eyes are wide and vulnerable. Arthur's hands still and let go of the platters and cutlery. He settles comfortably on the blanket and beckons Merlin down too. Merlin folds his own coltish legs beneath himself, wary.

"Before the ban was repealed, I thought I must show that I truly meant no harm to magic users," Arthur explains, "so I waited for you to confess after I repealed the ban. You never did, so I never pushed you."

"How did you find out?" is Merlin's next question.

"There was a bath in winter. You made it candlemarks before I finished reading the reports but it stayed steaming the whole time," Arthur fixes Merlin with a steady eye.

"Are you not angry?" Merlin's voice is a bare whisper, shaking like leaves in the wind. Arthur smiles wryly.

"I was, but I am not anymore," he answers simply, pressing a pastry into Merlin's trembling fingers. Merlin picks absently at it and it flakes. He watches Arthur, eyes narrow yet he leans closer unconsciously.

"How did you escape my spell?" Merlin switches, seeming on more familiar footing. He chews absently on the bit of pastry, frowning. Arthur quirks a brow as he sets down his skin of ale.

"Was I not supposed to?" He teases. "I thought of what I wanted to move and concentrated on moving my limbs." Merlin's lips twitch into a not-smile, tempered by the exasperation thinning his lips.

"No Arthur," he gently admonishes, "you were not supposed to defy the spell of the most powerful sorceror to walk this land." Now it's Arthur's turn to sputter and he rightfully does, pushing his ale away; it would just become a choking hazard further into this conversation. Merlin smiles smugly. He has regained his footing with Arthur disoriented.

"Most powerful?" He repeats. Merlin nods, tossing and catching an apple. His teeth sink into the red skin with a crunch, and juice trickles down his slender fingers. 

"No more secrets," Merlin tells him. "The druids prophesied me to be the greatest sorcerer to ever walk this earth. I am Magic itself." Then he smiles again. "I was born for you, and I use magic for you."

Arthur has to stay silent until his heart stops violently thumping. "What do you mean prophesied?"

"It is said that the Once and Future King will unite Albion with Emrys, the greatest sorceror to walk this land. I am Emrys, and you are the Once and Future King who united Albion," Merlin summarizes. Arthur stays silent again.

"I have so many questions," he says finally. Merlin smiles sadly.

"I will answer anything you ask."

"Not now," Arthur decides. "We have all the time in the world."

Merlin tips his head back and laughs. The wind dances through his loose strands, bringing the scent of flowers to Arthur. Then the world stops, silent and still as Merlin turns to Arthur, his eyes familiar and golden. 

"Oh Arthur, you have no idea."

**Author's Note:**

> no plot just vibes, i just love soft!arthur and merlin being his equal so this fic was born <3


End file.
